Sleeping Beauty
by FatesMistake
Summary: Harry is poisoned with a potion known as Lover's Rest. He falls into a magical sleep and can only be woken by 'true loves kiss'. Unfortunately not even Harry knows who this person is. Severus is sent into Harry's dreams to help him discover the answer, but he gets more than he bargained for. Can they reconcile their differences before its too late? SS/HP. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary** : Harry is poisoned by Romilda Vane with a potion known as Lover's Rest. He falls into a magical slumber that can only be broken by a kiss from the one he loves. Unfortunately, no one, not even Harry, knows who this person could be. Severus is sent into Harry's dreams to help the Seventh Year discover the answer, but he gets more than he bargained for when instead he gets to know the real Boy Who Lived. Can he reconcile this new 'hero' with the spoiled, selfish brat he thought he knew? Can they discover together who Harry might love before the Wizarding World puts the comatose Savior on display?

 **A/N: Note, Harry defeated Voldemort Sixth Year (it will be explained). Sorry to Neville fans, I had to cut out his involvement in the Final Battle, as well as most everyone else's. Also note, since I've had complaints, for the purposes of this story, and most likely every HP story to follow, Harry and Severus are _gay_. If you don't like it then don't read it. However, if you can look past it, my roommate hails this as being poetic and sweet.**

Harry huddled further into his coat against the cold rain drops falling around him, shrinking between his shoulders as an unseasonably cool wind blew even more rain into his face. Thank Merlin for Hermoine's spell that protected his vision from the wet weather. Tomorrow, he and his friends would be headed back to Hogwarts for the last time, but today they were still at the Burrow. Unfortunately, Ginny's sad eyes, pleading for an explanation about their break-up, had encouraged him to make a solitary walk to the nearby village and had left him walking back in the rain. He couldn't help thinking of how pathetic it would be to show up for his last year with a summer cold. Why couldn't he have just loved Ginny like she and Ron wanted?

The Gryffindor gave a startled shout as someone bowled him over, his feet slipping on the wet dirt road. He glared up at the young woman who'd run into him. She was pretty, with curly black hair, no more than sixteen, and looked vaguely familiar. He tried to regain his feet, but slipped again in the mud.

"A thousand apologies," The girl said, reaching down to help him up.

Harry sighed. "No worries," He muttered, reaching up to grasp her wrist as dainty fingers wrapped around his own. "Just try to be more-ow!" He yanked his hand out of her grip, turning it over to see a long, shallow gash on his palm. "You cut me!"

The beautiful stranger smiled apologetically. "So sorry, Harry Potter, really. It's…" She reached into the sleeve of her cloak and withdrew a small dagger. "It's just an old habit, because of the Death Eaters."

Harry narrowed his eyes and stood. "You're a witch?"

The girl nodded. "Mm-hm." She expounded on this by withdrawing her wand from her other sleeve and casting a cleaning spell on her dagger, banishing the blood and water dripping from the blade.

"Do you go to Hogwarts? I swear I've seen you somewhere," Harry murmured.

The girl ducked her head, but not before he caught a blush rising on her cheeks. "Romilda Vane, at your service. I actually just came from the Burrow looking for you. Seven Years and I never realized you were staying just down the road from me each Summer."

Harry frowned. "Hold up, you're the girl who sent me chocolates last year that were poisoned with Love Potion. You're the President of that stupid Fan Club," He said, growing angry. "Whatever you want, I'm not interested."

"N-no, I know," The girl, Romilda, said quickly. "I just…wanted to apologize, for the chocolates."

"You could have done that last year," Harry growled. "I hope you learned from that disaster that you can't just _make_ me fall in love with you."

"O-oh, of course, I know that now," She looked up with a strained smile. "Well, um, goodbye."

She moved to go around him and Harry let her go. He huddled back into his coat, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. By the time he reached the Burrow, he would forget about the odd encounter, consumed once more by thoughts of his failed romance with his best friend's sister. Behind him, though, something strange had happened to the face of the sweet young girl. Her features had twisted into an ugly, vicious snarl as she walked away.

"You _do_ love me, Harry, and I'm going to prove it to you and the rest of the Wizarding World. I'll show those other girls in the club, you're destined to be with me."

 _Break_

The next day, Harry got onto the Hogwarts Express with his friends. Hermione had discovered the cut on his palm when he'd returned to the Weasley homestead, and now all that remained to remind him of his strange encounter was a thin white scar that would no doubt fade in the coming weeks, as most of his scars did. The witch had been concerned over the girl, who'd already once tried to attack Harry, getting hold of his blood, but had relented when Harry explained that she'd cast the cleaning spell on the dagger while he watched. This had had the unfortunate side-effect of leaving his friend time to argue with Ron, who had yet to come clean with her about his feelings.

Harry heard the snack trolley rattling outside their compartment and he leapt to his feet, grateful for the reprieve as his friends stopped arguing long enough to gather at the doorway with him. He slid open the door and grinned at the kindly old witch who ran the cart.

"Something from the trolley, dears?"

"Ooh, Harry, could you get me a sandwich?" Hermione inquired pleadingly. "I left my money in my trunk and it'll take forever to get it out of the rack. I'll pay you back when we get to the school."

Harry smiled at his friend. "Don't worry about it, 'Mione," He told her, wrapping her in a one-armed hug.

"What about me, Harry?" Ron asked from his other side. "I'm starved. Could I get some licorice wands?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Neither of you would be hungry if you'd stopped arguing long enough to eat lunch." He nodded to the trolley lady. "I guess a sandwich and some licorice wands."

The woman passed them off. "And for you, dear?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "Um…do you have anything gentle on the stomach?"

The elderly witch looked at him sympathetically. "Upset tum, dear?" She began rifling through her cart and came up with a small bag of brown candies. "Here we are; Tea Toffees. As you suck on them, they become warm sips Earl Grey with a hint of lemon. Perfect for the tickle in your throat and the frog in your stomach."

Harry grinned. "That's perfect," He said, taking the bag and handing over the money he owed. "Just what the Mediwitch ordered." He closed the door to the compartment and resettled himself in his seat.

Hermione watched him carefully. "Are you alright, Harry?"

The Boy Who Lived shrugged. "Just a little nausea, probably from being out in the rain yesterday. I'll be fine."

The girl frowned. "How's your hand?"

"I dunno," Harry murmured. He looked at his palm. The area around the thin scar was a little red, and slightly swollen. "I think it might be infected." He answered, holding his hand up for his friends to see. "I'll keep an eye on it. If it gets worse, I'll go to Madame Pomfrey. Promise."

His friends seemed to accept this, though Hermione looked like she wanted to say more. Instead, she let the subject drop, and Harry slid along the bench to watch out the window at the passing landscape. He opened his bag of candies and slowly began picking them out, one-by-one, to suck distractedly, taking some small comfort each time they began to melt. It was almost exactly like sipping at a hot cup of tea, and it did wonders for his stomach and mood. He sat in this attitude, slowly eating his toffees, as the Hogwarts Express hurried him and his friends on their way to their final year of school.


	2. Chapter 2

That night, Harry did not get to sleep in his beloved bed in the dorm. Instead, he was holed up in his usual bed in the Hospital Wing. His nausea had returned with full force, and at the Welcoming Feast he'd noticed dark tendrils following the veins in his hand spreading out from the supposedly innocent scar. He'd hidden it from Hermione until they'd gotten back to the Common Room, where she'd demanded to see it before allowing him to go to bed. She had then used her Head Girl status as a means of walking him down to the Infirmary, despite it being after curfew.

Madame Pomfrey had been just as uncertain about the apparent infection in his hand, and this, more than anything, had alarmed the Wizarding Savior. However, because he had no more symptoms than the constant nausea and exhaustion, and she could find nothing wrong through her spells, the Mediwitch had told him that he would have to stay overnight in her Wing. Come morning, she would seek out Snape so that he might run tests on Harry's blood, and perhaps discover what sort of infection could cause such visible damage but remain undetectable to diagnostic spells.

Come morning, they would discover that they should have gone to the effort of rousing the Potions Master to run his diagnostics before Harry was allowed to sleep.

 _Break_

Poppy Pomfrey burst into the Headmaster's office during a meeting with the four Heads of House. The five professors looked at her askance. Never had they seen the Mediwitch so out of sorts, or so out of breath.

"Headmaster, you must come quickly!" The woman announced to the room. "It's Potter!"

All five of the professors exchanged a look of mild dismay mixed with fear before making a mad dash to the door, led by the very witch that had just come running in. She led them through the corridors, students leaping out of the way of the startling group as they all-but ran to the Hospital Wing. When they arrived, Poppy led them to the Seventh Year's bed. There, they all observed that the Boy Who Lived was floating an inch from the bed spread, his exposed forearm and hand a mesh of blackened veins.

"I came out here to check on him," Poppy told the five professors, her voice high with panic. "He was fine last night. Then I found him like this this morning, and he will not wake for anything. I even dowsed him with water, in hopes that it would startle him, but _nothing worked_."

"It's alright, Poppy," Albus soothed the woman, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "We'll get Mister Potter sorted. Just tell us what you know, alright?"

Poppy nodded. "Of course, Headmaster. I don't know the full story, though I think Miss Granger does…" Before she could say more, Minerva McGonagall was already leaving the Infirmary, likely in search of the school's Head Girl. "All I know is that the day before last Mister Potter received a cut on the palm of his hand, which Miss Granger cleaned and healed for him. And then yesterday he was brought here by the very same friend because he was unaccountably tired and nauseous, and the healed wound had blackened the veins directly around the small scar." She sighed a high-pitched whine. "I ran a few diagnostics, and I couldn't find anything wrong! I had thought he had simply touched some plant in the Weasley's garden before the wound had been healed! I assumed he would be safe for the night, and planned to enlist your help, Severus, this morning."

The Potions Master growled. "You should have retrieved me immediately!"

"Severus," The Headmaster said abruptly, the hint of a warning in his tone. The Potions Master deflated, but not completely. "Do you know what this is, Severus?"

"I have my suspicions, Headmaster, but I will wait for Miss Granger to pass judgment," Snape grumbled angrily.

Albus sighed and nodded, accepting that he would get nothing else. He turned to his Charms professor. "Filius, could you take Poppy to her office and order a tea service from the House Elves? I think she may need something to calm her nerves."

"Of course, Headmaster," Flitwick answered in his squeaky voice. He took hold of Poppy's hand and led her away, down the Wing towards her office.

"Pomona, could you please go down to Breakfast?" Albus asked, turning to the Head of House yet to be addressed. "There should be at least one professor there who has some hold over the students. No doubt our walk down here has already spread through the vine, and it would not due for the students to panic prematurely."

The Herbology Professor looked worriedly at the student lying prone above the hospital bed.

"I will keep you apprised of any developments," The Headmaster assured her.

Sprout hesitated for a moment longer, then looked at her fearless leader. "Yes, Albus, of course. I will go and try to temper the rumors in the Great Hall. What should I tell the students?"

"Nothing," Severus answered immediately. He stared back defiantly when twinkling blue eyes shot him a sharp look. "If we tell the students that Harry Potter has fallen mysteriously and suddenly ill on his first day back at Hogwarts, the students will riot. Within a few hours, we will have half the parents demanding their children be sent home for fear that it was an attack by one of the Death Eater sects that have evaded capture. We should wait until we have confirmation of what is ailing Potter, we should wait until we hear from Miss Granger."

"I have her!" Minerva said from further down the Wing near the door, walking back in with a very harried-looking Head Girl.

Severus sneered as the girl went immediately to Potter's side, brushing aside the fringe on the stony, sleeping forehead. "Granger, explain."

The girl looked at him with teary brown eyes. "It's my fault, I should have made him come here as soon as we got to the school."

"That's not helpful," Severus told her, still growling.

"Severus, enough," Albus said firmly. Snape turned to see his mentor giving him a strange, searching look before those blue eyes swept over to the Seventh Year witch. "Tell us what you know about how this happened."

Granger nodded, sniffling. "Harry went walking to the village, Ottery St. Catchpole, on his own the day before yesterday. When he was headed back to the Weasley's he literally ran into Romilda Vane, who'd just left the Burrow in search of him. She's a Fifth Year this term, the girl who poisoned the chocolates Ron ate last year. The one who runs that idiotic Harry Potter Fan Club." The girl explained. "She knocked Harry off his feet, and when she tried to help him up he cut himself on a dagger she kept hidden in her sleeve. She cleaned the dagger in front of him, though, she couldn't have used his blood!"

Snape sneered again. "She didn't need his blood, she'd poisoned the dagger. Don't you Gryffindors ever pay attention in my class?! Certain poisons will cling to a blade! I covered this in your Fourth Year!"

"Severus!" The warning was no longer a small hint in the Headmaster's tone, but a deep, seething anger. "Calm yourself." The Potions Master huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He would not apologize. When the Headmaster spoke again, the anger was gone. "Do you know what poison this is, and is Harry in immediate danger?"

"No," Snape spat. "He is not in any danger aside from too much sleep. The poison is Lover's Rest, more commonly known as Sleeping Beauty's Spindle."

The Headmaster gave a small gasp of damnation, but the three women present looked on in confusion.

"What, what does this mean?" Minerva asked in concern.

Severus looked to his rival Head of House. "It means Potter will not wake by any normal means. Sleeping Beauty's Spindle is referred to as thus because of a witch who used it in the 14th century to curse a Muggle princess. You should know the fairy tale that sprung up from the truth."

"You can't mean-" Granger said, scoffing. "The only thing that will wake Harry is true love's kiss?"

Snape smirked humorlessly. "True love conquers all, Granger. Or don't you read fairy stories?" The girl scowled, and Severus caught a glimpse of his employer scowling as well from the corner of his eye. He gave a tense sigh. "No, Miss Granger, it will not require the mythical 'true love's kiss', only a kiss from someone Mister Potter feels strongly towards romantically. His magic, when it senses the contact of the kiss, will react to that person's magic and flush the potion from his system. Until then, his magic will lie as dormant as he is."

"Then I will retrieve Miss Weasley," Minerva announced immediately.

Severus gave a stiff nod. The youngest Weasley would likely be happy to finally be the one to save her savior. And, presumably, she would do the job admirably.

"It might not work," Granger said softly as Minerva started to leave. This gave her Head of House pause. The collective of professors looked at her curiously. They had all been privy to the whirlwind romance between Potter and Ginny Weasley the year before. Granger blushed under their scrutiny. "I-I mean, it might, but…well, it might not. This summer, Harry was pulling away from Ginny, and then a few days before his meeting with Romilda, he-he dumped her. She was heartbroken, and he couldn't really give an explanation besides him not loving her, and not wanting to hold her back. He might still feel for her romantically, but he told us every time we asked that he _did_ love her, but as a sister. He couldn't say what had led to his attraction to her last year."

Minerva sighed, exchanging a look with the Headmaster. "I think we should try, anyway. What harm could it do?"

Albus nodded. "Yes, and bring Miss Vane as well. If Miss Weasley isn't the cure, Miss Vane might have modified the potion to react only to her. Whether it works or not, I then want you to bring Miss Vane to my office. I will have her parents and the Aurors waiting."

Minerva paled before leaving, and Severus had to stop himself rolling his eyes. Of course the Headmaster would want to press charges on behalf of his student. Surely Minerva didn't believe that, just because the girl was only fifteen, a deliberate poisoning would go unpunished. It was not the first time a student had required the interference of the Aurors, and Severus doubted it would be the last.


	3. Chapter 3

Neither Weasley nor Vane had awoken Potter from his slumber. And further inquiry with Granger had turned up no clue as to who _might_ be effective against the Lover's Rest potion. Poppy, after being assured that the potion would keep the Seventh Year in a state of stasis that deprived his body of the need for anything, had finally been convinced to move Potter from the main Wing. He now rested, still an inch above the sheets, in a private room typically reserved for Hogwart's professors. The Potions Master had made use of it often in his tenure, both as a professor and as a spy.

Severus stood stoically by as the Headmaster paced the shelves of his office.

"Headmaster, I do not know what you hope to gain from my being here," He said at last. "I have a House I must attend to, and I am frankly tired. I've told you all I know about the potion's curse, what more can be said? My time is best spent seeking an antidote."

"Is there one, or could you develop one," The Headmaster asked distractedly.

Severus groaned. "There is not, and it would admittedly take me years to develop one myself, with little hope of success. As I mentioned before, the cure requires Potter's magic, and there are very few potions that can mimic the core's response to stimuli."

"Then, for now, we shall concentrate on the cure we know of," Albus answered with a patronizing smile that tested the Potions Master's patience.

"Granger, as well as Potter's other friends, have already said that they do not know of _anyone_ Potter may be attracted to, never mind who he might feel strongly about!" Severus shouted.

Albus paused in his perusal of his shelves. "Severus, I get the feeling that you're hiding something from me."

"Yes, Headmaster, a deep desire to retire for the night!"

Maddening blue eyes rounded on him, scrutinizing the Potions Master. Snape, for his part, stood defiant under the scrutiny. He was hiding nothing from the esteemed Headmaster and had no idea of what the man could think he might be. Potter was his student, it was normal that he feel some small sense of responsibility and concern for the welfare of the teen. At last, Albus relented, and Severus had to force himself not to visibly slump once the searching gaze was gone.

"If only there were some way to enter Harry's dreams," The Headmaster said quietly, pulling books from his shelves to stack on a nearby table. Severus realized they were all revolving around a single subject: Legilimency. "If we could do that, we might glean from _him_ who he has feelings for."

Severus scowled. "Albus, you know as well as I do that Legilimency can only be used to access a person's memories, not their thoughts."

"But it _is_ possible, Severus," Dumbledore insisted, still taking book after book from his shelves. "I have seen it mentioned in one of these books, I'm sure of it. Besides, Harry's connection to Voldemort," Severus flinched involuntarily. "Was a form of Legilimency, and he was able to sense not only the Dark Lord's thoughts, but his moods."

"That was different," Snape argued. "Potter's connection to the Dark Lord was born of Dark Magic." He had a sneaking feeling of where this was going, and he wanted no part of it. "If you are so sure, however, then why do you need me? You are a better Legilimens than I."

"I have responsibilities, Severus," The Headmaster answered, turning to him. "I haven't the time to research the method of entering Harry's dreams, nor the time to actually do so once I have discovered the technique."

This did snap Severus' patience. "And what of my responsibilities, Headmaster? I am the Potions Master, professor, and Slytherin's Head of House! Why should my responsibilities be so much less important than yours? Who's to say I even have the magical might to sustain that sort of connection?!"

"I have faith in you, Severus," Albus told him, frustratingly calm. "And I have already fire-called Horace, earlier this evening. He is willing to return to the school and oversee your First through Fifth Year classes, as well as take over certain duties you conduct as Slytherin's Head of House."

"Have I no say in this?" Severus demanded angrily. He couldn't believe his life was being completely turned upside down _again_ for James Potter's brat.

Albus looked at him over his half-moon spectacles. "I won't force you to do this, Severus, no. However, as I always have, I trust you to do what is right."

Severus growled, and prepared himself for the hurt he would see in those blue eyes when he refused. The ghost of a voice from years past echoed in his mind, stopping him. He had promised Lily he would look after her son, and had never reneged on that promise. He couldn't bring himself to do so now. With a dark, brooding glare, he gave his employer and mentor a single, stiff nod. He then spelled the small stack of books to follow him and left the office without another word. Some small part of him already regretted the decision, and he sensed that, before this was done, that small part of him would grow. Potter was as stubborn as he was reckless; even if he _did_ have feelings for someone, either within the school or not, Severus could not imagine getting the Seventh Year to tell him would be at all as simple as merely asking.

 _Break_

It took three days and several missed meals for Severus to find the information the Headmaster had been sure existed. He had eventually discovered it in a rare text that dated back to the age of Merlin. It took another several days for him to master the theory and process. It was immensely complex for something that seemed so simple.

For the process to work, Severus had to be asleep, which had come as no surprise. He also had to maintain a connection between his core and Potter's, which was much more difficult. After a few experiments with the unconscious Seventh Year, the Potions Master found that, even dormant, Potter's magical core was extremely powerful, and with a bit of finagling with his own core, the Wizarding Savior's core could sustain the connection for him. Discovering that had taken another several hours of research into the abilities of the individual core.

The last step had turned out to be the most difficult: he had to maintain a physical connection to the real world, something that would wake him if he couldn't shut down the connection, should anything go wrong. It took a week for him to work out an alarm system that might reach him in Potter's mind. It took another week for him to gain control over his ability to enter and exit the dream state. By the time he was ready to enter Potter's thoughts, it was a month into term.

Unfortunately, there was no book to prepare him for what he might find within the Wizarding Savior's mind…


	4. Chapter 4

Severus opened his eyes to see a vast meadow filled with wild flowers and tall grass. In the distance, at the bottom of the hill on which he stood, was a forest that seemed to completely surround the field and that went on for miles. Beyond that lay the dim echo of children laughing and screaming, though none were in sight. The Potions Master found he was amazed despite himself. He had expected Potter to create his own dreamscape, but had never imagined anything so breathtaking.

"Hello, Professor."

Severus turned sharply to see the Seventh Year standing innocently behind him. "Potter."

The boy looked at him expectantly, but Severus felt no desire to say more. Finally, the boy spoke again. "Welcome to…well, I suppose I haven't named this one yet," The brat said, looking around them. Piercing green eyes met black. "So, what happened to me?"

"You were poisoned," Snape answered curtly.

"I gathered," Potter said. "I knew that even before I went to Madame Pomfrey. Even figured out that it was Romilda's dagger that poisoned me. I meant what happened _after_ I fell asleep? I know I'm not dead, but that's as far as my knowledge goes."

Severus sighed. "The potion is called Lover's Rest," He told the boy blandly. When he received only a quirk of an eyebrow in response, he jumped into an explanation of the potion's properties. After he'd finished, Potter only stood staring at him, eerily calm.

"Who's tried?" The Gryffindor asked at last.

"Miss Weasley, Miss Vane, and Miss Granger," Severus answered stoically.

Potter shrugged. "Makes sense. I dated Ginny, Vane made the potion, and Hermione's my best friend. Is there a line of students outside the Hospital Wing yet, waiting for their own chance to kiss the Boy Who Lived?"

"Many have inquired," Severus growled. "None have been given the opportunity, though we were sorely tempted to allow Mister Weasley to have a go."

This broke Potter's eerie calm with laughter. "Wow, Ron must be really panicking if he offered to kiss me," The boy chuckled. He turned from Severus and began walking through the field, the palms of his hands running over the flowers and grass. Each bloom he touched blossomed larger and brighter. "How about the rest of the world? Have they started demanding that I be put in a public place for anyone to be given the _opportunity_ to wake Sleeping Beauty?"

"The Headmaster is keeping the masses at bay and the Ministry under wraps," Severus admitted, following his student.

"How long have I been asleep, then? Time has no meaning here."

"A month."

"Give it another month. You'll have the Wizarding World at Hogwarts' gates," Potter said serenely.

Severus declined to respond to this and they walked in silence for an untold amount of time. Potter was right, time had no meaning here. Finally, the Potions Master became impatient when it became obvious that Potter was not going to simply offer up the solution to the problem at hand. Severus decided there could be no harm in asking.

"Potter, who do you…have _feelings_ for?" He asked distastefully.

"It doesn't matter."

This made Severus incredibly angry. "The hell it doesn't, Potter! Have you any idea what I and many others have been through trying to protect you and keep you safe?! Half of Britain is waiting with bated breath for you to wake from your slumber!"

Potter only shrugged, his calm unbroken. "Then they'll have an awfully long wait. As far as I know, I haven't got _feelings_ for anyone. There isn't anyone who's earned that kind of place in my heart."

Severus found this entirely unlikely. "You're a teenager, Potter, you have to have feelings for someone, even if it's just physical attraction."

Another shrug. "Nope. Call me self-serving, but I was rather busy trying to stay alive and fulfill a stupid prophecy over the last few years. It didn't leave much time for exploring my sexuality like the other boys in my dorm."

"The potion wouldn't have worked if you didn't have feelings for _someone_!" Severus argued impatiently.

Potter turned to look at him with dark, burning eyes that startled Severus. Perhaps he had pushed too hard. "Look, I don't know what to tell you. If what you say is true, and I have no reason to doubt that it is, then obviously I like _someone_ , but damned if I know who. So back off!"

Severus sighed through his nose. This was always a possibility with the potion. Lover's Rest tapped into the deepest recesses of its victim's heart, even into places the person couldn't see themselves. It was rare that someone be 'in love' even unbeknownst to them, and even more rare that it be a teenager…but, no one ever accused Potter of being normal. The Potions Master narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"Then my role here will be to help you discover the answer," He said firmly.

Potter gave a loud, gruff sigh and turned away to continue walking. "Do what you want."

"I'd have thought you'd be more anxious to return to the real world," Severus commented.

The brat had the gall to laugh. "Return to the real world? I'll tell you, Professor, I'm beginning to question what that even means. Before I turned eleven the 'real world' was a cupboard under the stairs where I got fed once a week and beaten once a day. When I got my Hogwarts letter, the 'real world' suddenly had a dark wizard who wanted nothing more in the world than to see me dead, and strangers thanking me for watching my parents die when I wasn't even old enough to speak. The 'real world' can burn in hell."

"And what of the people who care for you, you selfish boy? You cannot simply hide from your problems, Potter!" Severus growled.

"I never said I wanted to!" Potter answered hotly, rounding on him again. "I'm completely _determined_ to get out of this damned coma, but don't expect me to be happy about what's waiting for me outside of my few friends! And don't you _dare_ call me selfish, you bastard! I've had a shitty life in your 'real world'! You have no idea what I've done so that you and everyone else can have a 'normal' life." He walked back towards Severus angrily. "All I ever wanted was to be normal and loved for who I am. And because of a prophecy _you_ overheard, I can never have either! Make no mistake, Snape, I blame _you_ for every horrible thing that's ever happened to me, for every beating I received at the hands of my relatives, every night I spent weeping silently into my pillow because I was hurt and starving. Most of all, I blame you and your selfish, thoughtless deeds for the death of my parents."

Severus backhanded him. He didn't mean to, hadn't even known he was going to until he did, but he slapped the Seventh Year. His anger, which had grown to a raging inferno with every word, was suddenly doused. Never in his twenty years of teaching had he laid a hand on a student. Except when Potter had invaded his memories in the Penseive two years ago, he'd never even had to fight the urge. Something about Potter pissed him off more than anyone had ever managed, even more than his namesake.

As Potter stood staring angrily at their feet, his face turned and a hand held to his cheek, Severus had a sudden image of his own mother in the same position. He looked at his hand and had to swallow bile that rose in his throat. He had become what he hated most: his father. When he looked at Potter again, who was now glaring at him silently, defiance in the very curve of his spine, Severus couldn't make himself see his schoolyard nemesis' face. Instead, he saw the defiant clench of a jaw that wanted to tremble, the ghost of tears in Lily's green eyes, and the hurt in the furrowed brow…he saw a little boy cowering in a corner, wishing it would all just end. He saw himself.

"Potter, I-"

"Get out." The Gryffindor spat.

"Pot-"

"GET _OUT_!" Potter screamed fiercely, shutting his eyes and falling to his knees on the hillside, his hands clamped over his head.

Before Severus could try again to apologize, to say _anything_ to make what he'd done okay, he was waking in his quarters. He immediately reached for his wand on the nearby nightstand, scaring away the mid-day shadows with a hastily cast 'Lumos'. What had he done? Dream-state or not, he'd hit the stubborn Seventh Year. And for what? Because he was scared, and angry, and lashing out at the only person available.

Severus careened from his bed and into his bathroom. He turned the tap in the sink as cold as it would go and splashed his face several times, trying to wash away the guilt. It didn't help, and when he looked into the mirror he saw his father's face. He was meant to be helping Potter, was supposed to glean from him who had captured the Wizarding Savior's heart, and instead he'd done what he always did: he ridiculed and belittled until the Gryffindor had snapped.

He couldn't blame Potter for his words…he still blamed himself for what had happened to Lily and James. There was no way he could have known that the Dark Lord would target the Potter family, and no way he could have stopped him, but if he had never been a spy for Voldemort he would never have known to target them. His own foolishness and pride had killed his best friend and had left her infant son an orphan; an orphan who had apparently led a childhood not dissimilar from his own.

Severus stared into the mirror blindly. There was no chance that Potter had been lying about the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his relatives, no reason for him to have. So why hadn't he seen the signs? Seven years he had watched as Potter grew, saw him come back a stone or more lighter than when he'd left. For seven years he had ignored the way Potter flinched when someone got too close, had ignored the brat's heightened fight or flight response.

"What have I done?" Severus asked aloud to the mirror, feeling utterly drained.

His legs crumpled under him and he sat on his bathroom floor aghast. He had willfully ignored the signs of abuse in Potter, had chosen to believe that the Gryffindor's quick temper and distrust for the adults around him was just his reckless nature. Now he knew, and from his own experience, that this nature had been instilled in him. One of two things happened when you grew up abused: you became a quivering shell that shied away from confrontation, or you grew strong and refused to let anyone else hurt you…even if it meant not letting anyone get close enough try.

Severus sat on the cool stone floor of his bathroom for hours as the sun began to sink outside of the enchanted window in his bedroom. Over and over again he repeated Potter's words in his head, sinking lower into a deep, guilt-ridden depression. He had helped create the hurt, angry young man he had seen today, and he had no idea how to go about making up for six years of vitriol.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus didn't enter Potter's dreams again for three days. He'd told Albus of the problem with obtaining the cure to the curse, but hadn't admitted to his failure of self-control. He couldn't bring himself to explain that he had been forced from Potter's mind because he'd hit the lad. Never mind that, should anyone find out, he might lose his position at the school, he simply couldn't face the look of shocked disappointment that would appear in his mentor's eyes. Just picturing the response was enough to make his stomach roll and his insides go cold. Albus had been surprisingly understanding about Potter's lack of knowledge about who he might love.

"You must help him discover it, m'boy," The aged wizard had said, his eyes twinkling madly. "I have faith that together you and Harry can figure it out."

When Severus opened his eyes it was to a new dreamscape than before. This one resembled the white cliffs of Dover, but with a single tree that grew tall and strong at the edge. He caught a glimpse of a foot swinging from one of the lower branches and made his way over from where he stood. When he reached the tree, he looked up to see Potter, one leg bent, lying along the thick arm of the tree, his hands under his head and his eyes shut against the sun peeking through the overhanging leaves.

Severus cleared his throat. "Potter, I-"

"Sh." Despite the distance between them, Severus heard the command clearly. He scowled.

"I-"

"No, really, listen. I think I got the sound right this time," Potter insisted, still as unmoving as a statue.

The Potions Master's scowl deepened, but he did as he was told. He listened carefully, but heard nothing beyond the crashing surf and the cry of seagulls. Then he realized that this was precisely what Potter had meant. It was the sound of life, and, combined with the visual, it was as breathtaking as the hillside had been.

Severus looked up at his student again. "It's…beautiful."

Vibrant green eyes opened with a small smile. "I used the memory of a show on the telly that my aunt used to watch. Some of it's what I heard in the shack on a rock that Hagrid found me in, from before the storm rolled in. I used to dream of the beach when I was a kid. Dudley, my cousin, would tell his friends endless stories of the fun he'd had on the beach whenever my aunt and uncle took him. I used to dream about my parents taking _me_ to the beach; about playing in the sand with my dad, or splashing in the ocean with my mum…" The smile slipped and Severus almost had a heart attack when Potter suddenly rolled off the branch. Fortunately, the lad landed on his feet on the ground in front of him, but it had left Severus with his heart in his throat. "I'm sorry, Snape."

This caused the rapid tattoo of his heart to skip a beat. "Why-"

"For what I said," The boy told him simply, moving to the trunk of the tree and sitting at its base. He stared moodily out over the cliff at the endless blue ocean. "It doesn't matter how angry, or frustrated, I am, I have no right to accuse you of things you have no control over. You couldn't have stopped Voldemort going after my parents any more than you could have stopped Sirius from going to the Ministry. Yeah, you set certain events in motion, but who's to say they wouldn't have happened anyway? Besides, if you hadn't overheard the prophecy, then you might never have turned against Voldemort, right? The only reason I'm still alive to be _in_ this stupid magical sleep is because you've been protecting me since I came to Hogwarts. You were a bastard about it, but you still saved my life multiple times."

Severus frowned. "I don't-"

"I know." Potter interrupted, still not looking at him. "I _should_ blame you, but I can't. You didn't make their choices for them, and any wrongdoing you _did_ do you've more than made up for. You risked your life almost daily after Voldemort returned at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. The information you were feeding the Order saved countless lives." Potter did look at him now, with a small smirk. "I'm not the hot-headed little kid I used to be. Though, based on my behavior last time you were here, my temper could still use some work. The fact is I _am_ angry and frustrated. It doesn't seem to matter what I do, I just can't seem to catch a break. But that doesn't excuse my behavior, and I'm sorry. Truce? At least until you find a way to get me out of my own head and back to the real world?"

The Potions Master sighed. " _I'm_ sorry, Potter," He said softly, looking away from the hopeful green gaze. "I acted-I put my hands on you, and I will regret having done so for the rest of my life. Not only because you're my student, but because you deserve better than that. You are not to blame for my being here, and you can't help that you don't know your own heart."

"You're forgiven," Potter said.

"What?" Severus said in surprise, looking at the boy sharply.

The Gryffindor smiled softly. "You're forgiven," He repeated. "We all lose our tempers sometimes, and you and I have a history of pushing just the right buttons. I can't fault you for reacting that way, not when I was doing everything I could to push you to it. It hurt, and, if I'm being honest, it scared the hell out of me, but some part of me was _glad_ you struck me after the initial shock wore off. I've been trapped in my own head for a long time, with nothing but my dreams to keep me company. Getting you to hit me was…grounding. It reminded me that I'm still human, that I can still feel hurt and pain."

"I still regret my actions," Severus said uncertainly.

Potter shrugged. "That's okay, means you've got a heart."

They trailed off into silence and stayed like that for several minutes. Severus, still standing, stared out over the cliff. In the distance, he could see birds diving and swooping through the air. Potter was nothing if not idealistic. He cleared his throat. It was about time they got down to the business of discovering Potter's secret love. He decided to start with the more obvious questions.

"Why did you dump Ginny Weasley?"

The response was immediate, and not what Severus expected.

"Why did you join the Death Eaters?" Potter replied tersely. He looked up with a falsely innocent smile. "Oh, sorry, I thought we were asking personal questions that were really none of our business. You don't need to know why it didn't work out with Ginny, it doesn't have anything to do with who I might have feelings for."

The Potions Master scowled. "It might," He argued.

Potter only looked away and refused to answer. Severus found himself trapped by uncertainty. To discover Potter's love interest, they would both have to delve deep into his psyche; his likes, his dislikes, and his love life. These were all deeply personal topics for conversation, and it made sense that Potter expected a little 'give' for the 'take'.

Sighing deeply, really not wanting to open old wounds but seeing no other choice, Severus lowered himself to the ground gracefully. He sat with his legs folded, staring over the cliff. This was going to be hard.

"Your mother was my best friend, my only friend, in the years before and during my time as a student at Hogwarts," He began softly. He expected Potter to interrupt, but he didn't. "In my Fifth Year I began spending time with the other boys in my House. Voldemort was still a storm on a distant horizon for me. The boys who'd taken a sudden interest in me made me feel accepted for the first time in my life. Your mother, smart girl that she was, saw their interest for what it was and told me to keep away from them, but I couldn't. For the first time ever I had friends who were interested in me besides Lily. When I refused to stop spending time with these other boys, Lily said I had to choose, her or them. Being an angry fifteen year old, I chose them. Lily was my best friend, but these boys accepted me, and were offering me a position in their exclusive group. They had already begun filling my head with all these ideas about blood purity, and being 'elite'. And when Lily began spending time with your father, my tormentor, I decided that she'd already abandoned me."

"You became a Death Eater over a girl?" Potter asked carefully.

Snape smirked. "Not as such, but she was a part of it. No, I joined because I was promised a place high up in the Dark Lord's 'family', and revenge on all those who'd ever wronged me. You've seen glimpses of my memories, and it's not hard to piece together that I was heavily abused by my father. Because of that, I craved power more than anything, and the Dark Lord offered me that. He also offered to pay my way to getting my Mastery in Potions, which I wanted more than anything. So I joined his ranks, and I fed the darkest part of myself, ignoring the gentleness that your mother had always nurtured within me. I was young, ambitious, and impetuous. Only when Lily's life became endangered because of my foolishness did I realize what I had become. And I hated myself."

"So you changed sides," Potter finished for him. "You became a spy for Dumbledore, took a post as the Potions Master, and turned the tide of war." He paused. "Why're you telling me all of this? I didn't actually expect an answer, I was just trying to make a point."

"As am I, Mister Potter," Severus said stiffly. "I am willing to offer up pieces of myself if it means I get something from you in return. I want to help you awaken, and will do what it takes to achieve said outcome. Even if it means sharing with you parts of my past that I would rather keep buried."

"Oh," Potter said softly, staring at his hands in his lap. He was silent for a moment, then, "I wasn't in love with Ginny. I thought I was; I thought myself head-over-heels, but…" He sighed. "This last Summer, I got to spend a _lot_ of time with her, and I realized that my feelings for her weren't as deep as I'd imagined. I eventually came to the conclusion that my feelings were born, not of desire, but of jealousy. Ginny was obsessed with me for _years_ , and then she began dating other boys and suddenly I wasn't important anymore. She was the first girl to ever show even the slightest interest in me, and, while it was shallow, and selfish, I became attracted to her because I wanted that back. The only other girl I've ever tried to go out with was so preoccupied with her dead ex-boyfriend that we barely had a first date, and she cried through most of it. So I turned to Ginny, who had always been a constant…except she was no longer interested in gaining my affections. I only liked her because she was supposed to be madly in love with me, and some part of me figured that I might as well settle for the only girl who'll ever love me. Once I'd figured all of this out, I dumped her immediately. I tried to let her down gently, but there's really no nice way of saying you aren't in love with someone. The _reason_ I dumped her, though, was exactly that: I'm not in love with her, and I couldn't just lead her on."

Severus considered this. "Your father would have," He said softly. "It's one of the reasons your mother disliked him so much, because he didn't care who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted from the relationship."

"Yeah, well," Potter sighed again, standing from his place against the tree. "I'm not my father. And from what I've seen, I don't ever want to be."

He started to walk away, along the cliff face, and Severus rose to follow. They walked in silence.

"I used to dream about them," Potter said eventually. "When I was really young, I'd go to bed in my cupboard every night and dream that they would come to rescue me. I always imagined them to be kind, loving parents who adored me…But I was a kid. I never imagined that my father could be the one thing I hated, a bully."

Severus flinched. It was his own memories that Potter was referring to. It had never occurred to him to wonder what seeing that memory might have been like for Potter. He had assumed, because of his assumptions about who Potter was, that he'd taken some form of satisfaction out of seeing his father show the big bad Potions Master a thing or two. He knew better now, and could imagine what finding out something like that must be like.

"I'm sorry," Severus said gently.

"It's okay," Potter said, kicking at the grass as they walked. "Disillusionment is a part of growing up, right? The world is almost never like we imagined it as children. But we keep going, we adapt. We don't live in fantasies and dreams, we accept what the world is and we make do with what we've got."

"But, for the Boy Who Lived, the world is at your feet. They owe you a debt," Severus reminded the boy gently, trying to soothe the hurt on the innocent face. "For you, the world would mold itself to your dreams."

This didn't have the effect he was looking for. Potter only continued to stare at his feet dejectedly.

"I suppose they would, if I asked," He murmured solemnly.

Severus suddenly heard the distant sound of his alarm. He'd been here too long.

"I must leave you, Potter, lest I risk being trapped here with you," He said aloud.

Potter stopped walking and smiled sadly. "I guess I don't have to ask if you'll come back. And I can't say I don't enjoy the company. Thanks, Snape, for listening."

Severus gave a stiff nod. He closed his eyes in the dreamscape, and when he opened them he was back in his quarters. He lay on his bed for several long moments. Potter had been right, his reasons for dumping the youngest Weasley hadn't been useful for figuring out who he might feel for, but the rest had been enlightening. It startled the Potions Master to have such insight into the Wizarding Savior's mind. Everything he had thought, all of his assumptions, were wrong. Severus was a proud man, he was the first to acknowledge this failing, but he wasn't so proud that he couldn't admit, at least to himself, when he was wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

Severus visited several more times over the next three months. Potter hadn't asked anymore personal questions since the story about joining the Death Eaters. Instead, he answered Severus' questions about who he might love, what might endear him to someone, and offered nothing else up about who he was beyond that. The Potions Master didn't know what had happened between one visit to another, but Potter stopped talking about himself almost completely.

They were on the beach this time. The surf washed over the sand and rocks, leaving it dark before the surf touched it again and turned it white with foam. Potter was sitting on top of a large boulder, his knees bent and his hands clasped around them. He was staring off into the distance, and when Severus looked, he saw a small shack on what passed for an island, boats rocking on the waves around it. Tethered to a rock just off the island was a small wooden row boat that bobbed and pitched as the waves broke against the rocks.

Potter spoke as Severus watched the little wooden skip. "That's where Hagrid found me," He said softly. "The endless letters from Hogwarts scared my uncle so completely that he took leave from work and dragged us across England to escape them. He felt sure that we would never be found by the letters, by the owls, out there. He was partly right. I only got my letter because Hagrid delivered it personally."

The Potions Master turned back to the brooding Seventh Year, who smiled at him softly.

"I was so hopeful when I got my letter," Potter continued, his smile becoming sad. "I thought I was finally going somewhere where I could be happy, and loved, and accepted. I thought the Wizarding World was my ticket away from my relatives, my chance to finally have friends and be normal." He scowled, looking away. "But then I found out what it really was. It wasn't an escape, it was just a new kind of hell. A place where everyone knows my name and nobody sees my face; a place where, at the tender age of 11, I was praised as a hero for something I didn't even _do_. A place where people who'd never even met me either put me on a pedestal above everyone else, or despised me for who they think I am. I'm not a _hero_ , I'm a sacrificial lamb, and a bad one at that. I'm-I'm their _martyr_ is what I am."

Severus smirked sadly. "You have to die to be a martyr, Potter."

"So they keep telling me," The boy sighed. He looked at Snape again, that sad smile back in place. "I think you and Hermione are the first people to ever see _me_. She didn't know who I was when we met, and you didn't care. I used to think Ron saw who I was behind the scar, but now I know differently. When he befriended me, it was because it set him apart from his brothers, something he could brag about to them. Then, after that, it became a matter of pride. He was Harry Potter's best friend, and that gave him power that his brothers would never have. It's always made him feel important. Even after I became friends with Fred and George, they would _never_ have used their friendship with me to gain favors, but he did, still does."

"Potter-"

"I don't mean to say he doesn't care about me, because I know he does…but, his brothers treat me like family, his mum and dad think of me as a son," Harry interrupted, frowning. "He doesn't have that sort of connection to me. He was barely talking to me before I was poisoned, because he was pissed that I wasn't going to make him my brother-in-law. It wasn't even about Ginny, he didn't care how she was feeling, he just kept pleading with me to take her back so we could make our brother-status official…'for the world to see', he'd said."

Severus didn't know how to respond to this. He knew what false friends were like, but there was nothing he could say to improve Potter's mood. Nothing made false friends 'alright', and nothing could fix the damage they did overtime. Finally, wanting to say _something_ , he spoke up.

"If Mister Weasley feels this way, then why would he offer to kiss you in an effort to break the curse?"

"For the popularity if it worked," Potter answered immediately. "Plus, he really is my friend…just, not the kind of friend he pretends to be, the kind of friend Hermione and the twins _are_. He can't help that, sometimes I don't even think he realizes the way he treats me; like a trophy to be shown off."

"Then why stay friends with him?" Severus asked imploringly. Part of him thought this was a waste of time, the part of him that had never wanted to get close to his students…or anyone else. The rest of him was just glad Potter was talking freely again.

The Gryffindor didn't answer. Instead, he made an inquiry of his own. "What's going to happen when I wake up?"

Severus couldn't help a playful smirk. "I imagine the world will resume spinning once you're there to help it along."

Potter didn't smile, or laugh. "I mean about my schooling. I've already missed too much of the school year to be able to make it up on the weekends. Even if I wake up in time to take my NEWTs, I couldn't possibly pass with only Sixth Year knowledge."

"I'm honestly not sure, Potter," Severus told the younger wizard, frowning. "I suppose you could do as the home-schooled do and hire a private tutor, or more than one, to aid in your education. You have Grimmauld, and your godfather's estate. There are any number of witches and wizards who would jump at the chance to teach the Boy Who Lived."

Potter sighed into his knees. "Yeah, I suppose there are," He mumbled half-heartedly.

Severus could sense that the openness was suddenly gone. Again, he didn't know what he'd said or done to close off the window into the Gryffindor's soul, but he knew that he would get no more than what he asked for directly. Before he could begin the newest line of questioning, Potter leapt off the rock to land beside him.

"Who's tried?"

Severus hesitated. "We agreed to allow Mister Weasley his chance, since you two were meant to be so close," He admitted. "The both of you being teenagers, it's not difficult to get your gender preference confused and start to have feelings, even false ones, for someone you're very close to."

Potter started walking along the beach just out of reach of the crashing surf. "Makes sense," He said, shouting over the waves. The Potions Master took several long strides to begin walking beside the young man. "Who else?"

"We located Miss Chang," Severus said idly. "It wasn't hard, since she's a potential Chudley Cannons recruit and was at the team's training grounds. She was more than happy to try, but quite obviously failed, as all the rest have done."

"You should give Luna Lovegood a go," Potter suggested. "We're not close, but there's something about her that's always…stuck with me. I swear the girl is either a seer or born of a fairy bloodline, possibly both. Whenever I get rattled, I have a distant thought that she could help, she'd know all the answers. If there was anyone I could fall in love with and not know it, I'd bank on her. And perhaps the twins, they're up here also." He tapped his temple. "If ever I get caught up in my woes, I just think about their constant jiggery-pokery and I'm cheered up. I can't even help it, they just pop into my head, and for a few minutes I forget whatever's bothering me."

Severus nodded his agreement, and they walked for a moment in silence while he considered this new information. Potter wasn't bothered by his supposed best friend kissing him on the mouth, had even suggested letting the very _male_ twins do the same. It hadn't seemed possible, Potter's only girlfriend's having been just that, girls, but…Severus couldn't shake the feeling that they were on to something.

"Potter…are you gay?"

The Gryffindor stumbled before continuing his slow stride along the beach. "I honestly don't know," He answered, sounding almost surprised. "I've never really given it any thought. I suppose it's possible."

"How can you not have any idea of whether or not you're gay?" Severus demanded in frustration.

Potter shrugged. "Like I said, I never thought about it. All I've ever wanted was to be normal, and when it comes to my sexuality the only examples I've been given are the other boys at the school and my relatives. I don't know that I've met anyone who is actually gay, though Seamus and Piers are bisexual…" He scrunched up his face in thought.

"The Headmaster is of the homosexual persuasion," Severus remarked. He cleared his throat. Might as well. "As am I. So now you know of at least two people who are attracted to their own sex."

"Oh," Potter murmured with a small blush. "Thanks, you know, for telling me; makes this conversation a bit less awkward. The fact is, in reality, I've never had _real_ romantic feelings towards anyone, and I'm not exactly your typical sex-addled teen. Now that you've mentioned it, though, I suppose I do imagine kissing boys more often than I dream about kissing girls. So, if not gay, at least definitely bent in that direction. Though, that doesn't _really_ help us."

"It doesn't?"

"Well, no," Potter said as if it were obvious. "My fantasies are faceless, and we can't very well have every boy at Hogwarts try and wake me, so it's the same problem as the girls."

Severus frowned. "A fair point, Potter." They devolved into silence again. "Tell me about your woes."

"What? Why?" There was suspicion in the tone that startled Severus.

"I won't use them against you, Potter," Severus swore. "My idea is a simple one: reverse psychology."

Potter frowned up at him. "Telling you my woes is going to make me happy?"

"Not as such," Severus corrected. "There are different types of reverse psychology. There's the most commonly known type, which is used against or for another. But there is also a more commonly _practiced_ type, where our brain takes something and changes it to something more readily agreeable."

"Like your opinion of me?" Potter suggested idly.

"Yes, I-" Severus scowled. "Don't use my words against me."

"Sorry," The brat said, not sounding in the least like he was. "Must be the Slytherin in me. What's your point, Snape?"

Severus drew a deep breath, considering how best to phrase what he wanted to say. "Sometimes, though not often, this trick of the mind can be applied to romances." He began. "You read about it in books, or see it in cinema, but you rarely see it played out in real life. It is possible, though, to mistake love for loathing. You meet someone, and even though they are everything you love about the world, there is something about them, sometimes small, sometimes huge, that pisses you off. Something about them gets under your skin, crawls up your spine, and sticks in your thoughts like a cancer. You don't realize until it's too late to stop it that it's this very thing that angers you that has you so enamored with them. I saw it with your parents. Like with them, and even more rarely, loathing can _become_ love. One day, you're at odds with this person, and then the next, without either of you giving your permission, you're caught in a web of desire so complete that you can't escape it. The more you struggle, the more you love them. Sometimes, like with your idiot father, one of you knows from the start that this is how it was always meant to be, sometimes you both come into the feelings gradually…and, as with all forms of love, sometimes your feelings are not reciprocated. However, whichever case it may be, it _is_ possible that _you_ , Mister Potter, have developed feelings for one of your supposed enemies."

Potter considered this silently as they continued down the bank of sand. As they walked, Severus realized that homes were beginning to appear a hundred yards or so from the beach. Faceless children tangled and played in the yards. The same sound of distant child-like laughter and playful screams from the field in a forest could be heard under the constant crash of the waves. It was too far away, though, to belong to these children. It was almost as if it were an incomplete dream, a wish that didn't come true.

"So, what you're saying," Potter murmured, still thoughtful. "Is that, without my realizing it, I might have feelings for someone I believe myself to hate? And that, most likely, these feelings are…unrequited?"

"Not necessarily," Severus said, frowning now himself. "I said they _could be_ , as is a chance you take with all forms of love."

"Yeah, but the chances are phenomenal," Potter told him quickly. "You said it yourself, it's rare that that sort of love-hate mistake even happens; and even rarer that _both_ parties are assured of their disdain, with no idea of what's lurking beneath it. So the chances that I'd confuse love for hate and that it be felt by the other person in equal measure are…well, they're astronomical, really."

"But it _is_ possible," Severus argued. He didn't know why, but it was important that Potter believe he could be loved in return.

"Don't be soft, Snape, it doesn't suit you," The Gryffindor said shortly. "False hope is _not_ better than no hope at all, despite what Dumbledore would have you believe. I've never held stock in fairy tale romances, and I'm not about to start now. And, besides, a requited romance isn't necessary to the potion. Whoever it is, boy or girl, doesn't have to love me back for the kiss to work, it's only my feelings the potion is interested in."

"I suppose that's true," Severus said. He was already considering how best to manipulate Malfoy into performing this small task without the blonde ripping out this young man's heart if it worked. "So, the question remains: who gets under your skin?"

"Aside from you?" Potter asked with a sly smirk.

Severus scoffed impatiently. "Obviously."

"Well," Potter said slowly, smoothing his fringe over his scar, the smirk gone. "Malfoy, of course, heads the list. Prat could die tomorrow and I'd be hard-pressed not to think the world better off. His father, too, for that matter...maybe even more than the son, thanks to his role in the war. Fudge, though I regrettably admire his successor's tenacity. Everyone else I despise is either dead, captured, or on the run, and there's not a one of them that I find _anything_ admirable about. Given that, you can cross off Lucius and Cornelius, too. Lucius is pretty, in a very psychotic sense, but I can't even pretend to like anything about his personality. The only reason Draco remains is because he hesitated last year with the cupboard and saved you from doing something you'd have regretted for the rest of your life."

Severus didn't say anything. He knew very well what he'd have been forced to do if Draco had let the Death Eaters through the cupboard as planned. The idea haunted him.

"That's the look," Potter said thoughtfully, pointing at him. "Draco had that same sick look when I saw him in the bathroom last year, before he attacked me and I hit him with your spell. It made him…human."

"My spell?" Severus inquired, his voice tight.

"Yeah," Potter said with a small smile. "Wasn't hard to figure it out. You're my Half-Blood Prince, and you invented the spell that almost killed your prize Slytherin. I should've figured it out sooner, but it didn't make sense until this summer. Why else would you have asked for my Potions text? If you'd caught another student, someone before me, who'd created the spell, you'd have had the book or passage destroyed. But the book was almost perfectly preserved in the classroom, forgotten in a cupboard. So, I compared the handwriting to one of my old essays that you graded. It was, of course, a rough match. I still don't understand where the name came from, but I know it was yours, back when you and my mum were friends."

Severus cleared his throat. "It…my mother was the last surviving heir of the pureblood line, Prince," He said softly. "She was shamed by my grandfather for falling in love with an oafish Muggle, my father, and he refused to acknowledge me as being any sort of heir. He left his estate to a distant cousin of my mother's: the Malfoy's. But, when you're a Slytherin, even a shamed pureblood line is a life raft in a sea of prejudice, and I _hated_ my father. So, I held onto the name, and being a Half-Blood, I named myself the Half-Blood Prince. To my Housemates it was a taunt, but to me it was a badge of honor."

Silence reigned again as they meandered over the sand. Potter spoke after a long time, but his voice was defeated, as if he was giving up hope.

"What if Malfoy isn't the answer?"

"Then we will find another." Severus answered immediately.

"For how long?" Potter demanded angrily, pausing in his steps. "How long can this last before the demands of the Wizarding World have to be met?! How long until I'm transferred to the atrium of the Ministry, or a bed in St. Mungo's, for everyone who wants to be my 'hero' to give kissing the Boy Who Lived a go? How long can you keep coming to my dreams before the connection collapses and I'm trapped here for who knows how long?"

Severus sighed. "I don't know," He told the younger wizard honestly. "You can be protected, as a student, at least until the term ends. There are some bi-laws that will protect you longer, but not much. Legally, you're an adult, so Hogwarts can only safeguard you until your time as a student ends. As for me…I will come to you wherever you are, if only to safeguard your dreams. I've knotted a branch off both our cores together, our proximity won't matter."

The Gryffindor drew a deep, calming breath and looked up at him with watery green eyes, but with the hint of a smile. "It is a small comfort, but…Thank you, for being here, and for your promise to remain so." Dark clouds began to gather overhead, and their scenic surroundings began to melt away like a rain-spattered painting as the young wizard began to back away. Potter closed his eyes against the whipping winds and the cacophonous sound of thunder bouncing around stone walls. "You should go…you shouldn't have to see this."

"Potter," Severus tried. His voice was swallowed by the sound of a thrashing surf and clap of thunder. He closed his eyes against a flash of lightning. "POTTER!" He bellowed, trying again as the sounds vanished. He opened his eyes, knowing what he'd find. He was back in his quarters at Hogwarts, his own shout ringing in his ears.


	7. Chapter 7

Convincing Draco Malfoy to kiss Harry Potter was easier than anyone would have thought it to be. Severus suspected that, like Weasley, his motives had been at least partially self-serving. Not only a chance to break the Boy Who Lived's heart, but a chance to do it publicly. He'd have been both loved and despised, a catch in the eyes of half of Wizarding Britain, if it had worked. Which, of course, it hadn't; and neither had the Weasley twins or Luna Lovegood. Even Neville Longbottom had been given the chance, along with every other boy in Potter's dorm.

The Potions Master began to fear that they had exhausted all avenues. He didn't know what else to try, and was tempted to begin convincing Albus to let every student try and wake their savior. The only thing that stopped him was a promise. The promise to safeguard Potter's dreams, his mind, was one, but internally he had promised himself that he would do what he could to protect Potter's body as well. And you were always meant to keep Christmas promises.

He visited again and again, but with each visit he grew less and less concerned over finding the Wizarding Savior's savior. There was nothing left to ask, no road they had not walked to its dead end. Through his dreams, Potter showed Severus _his_ world. A cupboard under the stairs, but only from the outside; Hogwarts, as seen from the eyes of a bright and imaginative young mind; the Ministry, through the eyes of a frightened Fifth Year; Diagon Alley, ever-changing but always the same; and a park, not dissimilar from the one where Severus once met his best friend in the dog days of Summer.

Sometimes there were even people, though Potter never interacted with them. To him, it was as if they didn't exist at all. The students of Hogwarts, the wizards and witches of the Ministry, his relatives…all shapes, and blurred lines and colors, but never with any substance. Severus had asked once, as they traversed the corridors of the school.

"Why do the people never have faces?"

"Why should they?" Potter had asked bitterly in return. "This is how everyone sees me, isn't it? Faceless. A name in a headline, a scar on a forehead, and a bleeding heart in a much unguarded chest."

Severus hadn't known how to respond, and had said nothing. It took two more visits to learn the real truth. They'd been walking through a dark and terrifying version of the Ministry, officials dodging this way and that as they weaved easily past.

"Shakespeare was right, you know," Potter had said, breaking their companionable silence. "He often was, usually without meaning to be. All the world's a stage…and everyone wears a mask. You asked why the people are faceless, and it's because here I can strip away their masks. I think everyone has two lives, Snape. There's the one we live, right out in the open for everyone else to see…and there's the one in our heads. Sometimes, we let the two lives converge, with unknown consequences. But, for most of us, we keep a secret part of ourselves completely hidden from the scorn of others. For some, it is a terrible darkness that must forever be locked away, for others it is an innocence that no truth can kill…But for us, for you and I, it is the pain. We take the card's we're dealt and we _bluff_ until not even _we_ can tell if the hand is good or bad. Because the alternative is so much worse, the alternative is letting people we care about see the things that eat at our souls…the alternative is turning everyone away in terror of the things we've faced and done."

Again, Severus had found he was unable to respond. Admitting that Potter was right would kill the bluff, and he was horrified to find that the dam walls were dangerously close to snapping under the pressure of maintaining the mask. The only other thing he could say would be to lie, and he found he couldn't bring himself to do that either. No one else, besides Albus, had stood so precariously on the edge between his mask and his mind. No one else had ever bothered to peek beyond the walls around his secret heart and accept what they found there. He'd been unable to cope and had fled the dreamscape. Only when he was safely in his quarters could he admit, in his secret heart, that running was as much an admission as anything he might have said.

He hadn't returned for nearly a week, and Potter never mentioned it again.


	8. Chapter 8

They were in the woods this time. Behind them, through the trees, Severus could glimpse the hill from his first visit. They had been walking together for some time, though neither had yet to speak. Despite the grim shadows that had been cast, the forest was bright with rays of sunlight breaking through the branches overhead.

"Do you believe in love, Potter?"

Severus hadn't expected to ask that, and he expected the laughter that followed even less.

"Love?" Potter chuckled. "Not in the least."

This angered Severus, but he put a lid on his bubbling rage. What was all this for if Potter didn't even believe that there was someone to cure his curse?

"Then what do you believe in?" Severus demanded in an insulted growl.

Potter glanced at him, his laughter tapering off. "Um…I'm not sure. I suppose…a kiss."

Despite their circumstance, Severus found himself confused. "A kiss?" He repeated.

"Yeah," The Gryffindor said, growing serious and pensive. "The earth-shattering kind that turns you on your head. Love comes and goes, you can fall in and out almost at will. But a _kiss_ , the right kiss from the right person, it-it _haunts_ you. It tears you apart inside until you can think of nothing else. Every kiss before it pales, and every kiss after feels wrong. The kind of kiss that every author tries to give word to, and every actor tries to portray. An improbable kiss."

"Improbable?"

"It would have to be." Potter said cryptically. "Otherwise, it wouldn't be special."

Severus frowned. "Isn't that just another sort of love?"

A shrug. "I dunno," Potter said softly, picking a leaf off a tree as they passed. "I'll tell you once I've had one."


	9. Chapter 9

The next time Severus came to visit, he opened his eyes in shadow. As his eyes adjusted to the clouded moonlight in what appeared to be a massive cave on the beach, he could hear the warring crashes of thunder and surf. He looked around and saw Potter, pale as a ghost, standing a few feet away. Frightened green eyes kept shooting glances at the cave wall over Severus' shoulder.

"Potter, what is this? What's wrong?"

Potter chuffed a false laugh. "You didn't think it was all dreamscapes and rainbows, did you, Snape? I'm asleep, remember? Welcome to my nightmares."

There was a sudden grinding sound behind the Potions Master and he turned to see Potter hefting the Headmaster through a dark opening. The old wizard was leaning heavily on his prize pupil, his blackened hand limp. This wasn't just a nightmare, it was a memory, it had to be…the two wizards had faces. Clutched in dream-Potter's hand was a piece of parchment and a necklace.

"What-"

"Don't worry, I can't send you away," Potter said behind him, sounding sick. "I'm not powerful enough once the nightmare begins. I'm sure you, like everyone else, want to know what happened last year when Voldemort fell. Now, you can see for yourself."

Severus continued to watch as the dream-boy gently settled the winded Headmaster down on a rock.

"What-what does it say, Harry? Tell me."

Dream-Potter nodded and uncrumpled the missive in his grasp. "It says that three of the Horcruxes are gone. That whoever wrote this destroyed them with a Basilisk fang he bought on the black market. He claims he found all but one-"

"Four," Albus interrupted breathlessly. "There were four left when Voldemort fell. Go on, Harry."

Dream-Potter shook his head. "It says nothing else, and it's only signed with the initials R.A.B." He looked pleadingly at the old wizard. "What does this mean, Professor?"

"It means that there's only two Horcruxes left," Albus wheezed, groaning.

"But you just said-"

"I know, Harry, but think back to your Second Year," Albus said impatiently. "The diary, Harry, the diary was a Horcrux. And the ring." He held up his withered hand, the one Severus had spent all Summer finding the cure for.

Dream-Potter's eyes widened. "But then, that means we only have to find the last Horcruxes to defeat Voldemort!" He said excitedly. "After we find them and destroy them, he can be killed for good!"

Albus sighed and stood unsteadily from his stone perch. "I already know where they are," He said solemnly.

"Where?!" Potter demanded, still excited. "We should go get them now, before Voldemort realizes what we're doing!"

Blue eyes studied the Gryffindor with deep sorrow. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Assss am I!"

Severus turned at the same time as the dream-boy did to see the Dark Lord standing right behind him. Instinctively, he backed away, drawing the real Harry back behind him. The Dark Lord stood with his wand raised at the dream-duo, poised to cast the Unforgivable.

Potter retched behind him. "It-it's okay, Snape, he can't see us."

"I was so hoping to have a grand final battle," Voldemort hissed. "But once you're both dead, taking the Ministry and Hogwarts will be child's play. Perhaps, my loyal servant Severus would do as the new Headmaster."

"Snape wouldn't-He's not your pet, you monster, and I won't let you get the Ministry _or_ the school!"

"Won't _let_ me?!" Voldemort hissed angrily. " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

Their spells met in the middle in a flash of light, momentarily blinding their audience. Severus glanced back at Potter. He was looking more sickly than before, and ready to bolt.

"You defended my honor against the Dark Lord?" He teased, trying to break the tension around the too-old eyes.

Potter gave a breathy chuckle. "Yeah…not my best moment, but Dumbledore always insisted you were to be trusted, and I trusted him to know." Watery, shadowed green eyes looked up at him. "Thank Merlin you turned out to be worth it."

Severus smirked and turned back to the light display in the middle of the cavern as dream-Albus shouted.

"Harry, look out!" Another spell lit up the dark, slippery walls as a cutting hex destroyed the large snake slithering towards the Wizarding Savior. Nagini lay dead not feet from dream-Potter, who was struggling to hold his spell against Voldemort's.

"I was tired," Potter murmured from behind Severus. His voice was distant, like he was talking more to himself. "I didn't know that it _had_ to happen, that what was to come was what was always meant to be. But I was so tired after fighting off the Inferi…"

He trailed off just as his dream version's spell began to fail. The line of Voldemort's poisonous green spell began moving towards Potter's wand. At the last second, dream-Potter released his spell, his wand falling to his side. There was a moment where Severus could see the pure exhaustion on the lad's face before the Unforgivable struck his chest and he collapsed, apparently dead. Immediately, Severus reached back and gripped his student's hand behind him, verifying that he was still there, that he was alive and sleeping in a hospital bed several floors above him.

"But you're not-he can't have-"

"You said it yourself, Snape," Potter murmured, sounding a little stronger as the dream began to fade to white around them. "I had to die to be the Wizarding World's martyr."

Without thinking, without any intention of doing so, the Potions Master spun on his heel and drew his student against his chest in a breathless hug. He was still here, he was still alive, dammit, and he wasn't going to lose him. He breathed in the fresh scent of grass clippings, ancient texts, and roses in Summer bloom. He wasn't sure if it was the dream, or if it was real, but he clung to the scent as firmly as he clung to the boy.

"I was the last Horcrux," Potter murmured into his chest. "My death ensured Voldemort's. I wound up here, which I think is a kind of crossroads for the not-quite-dead. Look."

Severus opened his eyes and lifted his head from where it had been resting on the shorter man's. He knew this place…it looked like King's Cross, but he'd been here besides that, one night after a terrible meeting of the Death Eater's. He'd been tortured for failing to deliver the very boy he was wrapped around. When he'd woken, he'd been back in his quarters at Hogwarts, and had always assumed his vision of this stark white place to be a dream. It hadn't been unusual, during the war, for him to dream of his mother. He released his student and looked around, half-expecting to see a young and vibrant Eileen Prince again.

He froze when he spotted dream-Potter on a nearby bench conversing in whispers with a familiar red-head.

"Lily…" He breathed, a lump forming in his throat.

"She gave me a choice," Potter said softly. "And she didn't make it easy to choose. I could get on the next train with her, or I could go back to what awaited me in the cave. She said it was my choice alone, but that she and Dad would be proud of me no matter what I chose."

Severus suddenly understood why Potter had been so angry on his first visit, when he'd accused the Gryffindor of being selfish. He wasn't being selfish…he'd already made the same choice once before. Making it a second time couldn't be easy. The Potions Master watched as his first and best friend hugged her child tightly before the cave returned in a flash of blinding light.

"I could only ever have come back," Potter said, his voice still barely there. "My mum said that it was my choice, but…If I hadn't come back, then the Headmaster would have died and all of Britain would have been left trembling at Voldemort's feet."

Dream-Albus was holding a shield against an onslaught of spells. Part of Severus questioned why Voldemort didn't just cast the Killing Curse, but he already knew. The Dark Lord had always enjoyed taunting his quarry with the hope of escape, and Dumbledore was already leaning heavily against the cave wall. Neither wizard was paying any mind to the prone form of dream-Potter, not even when the lad began to stir.

Green eyes flashed open and sparked as he rose slowly to his feet. He raised his wand on the dark wizard, whose back was turned to him. Severus saw the boy's lips move before a streak of bright green lightning left his wand and struck the cloaked, snake-like man. After a long, breathless moment where everything seemed to freeze, Voldemort crumpled.

"It was all so anti-climactic, y'know?" Potter said behind him as his dream version ran to Dumbledore and caught him before he could collapse. The dream faded and they were back on the grassy hill overlooking the woods. "All that fighting, all that death, and it only took _mine_ for Voldemort to fall."

Severus turned to see Potter on his knees in the tall grass, hugging himself tightly.

"That's how you returned with the Dark Lord's body, ceasing Malfoy's orders and ending my contract with his mother," Severus murmured, his voice gravelly. "And you never told anyone what happened."

"My friends know," Potter said, getting to his feet. "I swore them to secrecy. Not as powerful as an Unbreakable Vow, but they're still under a spell. If they ever tell anyone, they'll be covered in boils and have 'snitch' written across their forehead. Not to mention, they'll forfeit my friendship, obviously."

"Sounds familiar," Severus said with a smirk.

Potter looked up at him with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "When it works, right?" He answered. "They don't understand why it eats at me…why I have nightmares about that day more than every other horror I witnessed through Voldemort's eyes. Hermione thinks it's because I keep reliving my own death, but…"

Severus frowned. He had his own nightmares, he understood. "It wasn't your fault, Potter. He would have killed you, for good this time."

"He had his back to me," Potter argued weakly, mild surprise in his tone. "I killed him in cold blood, and I wasn't even brave enough to look him in the eye when I did it."

"Would that have been better?" Severus challenged with a snarl. "Would it have been easier if you'd had to look him in eye and _watch_ the life drain from him?" He felt unaccountably angry. Potter had died and killed in the service of the Wizarding World, and he felt _pity_ for the man who would have enslaved or destroyed them all?

Potter scowled. "Maybe it wouldn't have been, but it doesn't change what I did!" He shouted, getting angry himself. "I _killed_ a man, Snape! It doesn't matter how evil he was, or what he would have done if I hadn't! I cast an Unforgivable, and instead of being punished, I'm being hailed a hero! The Wizarding World forced me into the role of murderer, I should be in prison for what I did!"

Severus scoffed. "Is _this_ not punishment enough?!" He demanded. Potter only continued to scowl at him. "Have you not caused _yourself_ enough grief? What punishment could the world offer that is greater than the hell you put yourself through?! You saved the lives of _millions_ , Potter! If Voldemort had lived for even one more year, do you imagine that the lives he would have taken are worth _less_ than his?!"

Potter glared, but didn't answer.

"Are they?!" Severus demanded again.

"No," The Gryffindor spat angrily.

"The Dark Lord would not have stopped killing people if you'd spared his life, Potter," Severus growled, lowering his tone.

"I didn't ask for any of this, though!" Potter shouted. Severus scoffed again and turned his back on the Gryffindor, walking away. Potter followed. "All I ever wanted was to be normal, and instead I get saddled with the fate of both the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds! I was _sixteen_ , I never should've been forced to take a life that young!"

"It doesn't get easier as you get older, Potter!" Severus bellowed, rounding on the young man. "Take it from someone who knows." He turned away again, and, for the first time since his visits had begun, he withdrew from Potter's dreamscape without the call of his alarm.


	10. Chapter 10

It took only a few hours for Severus to cool off enough to admit he'd been too hard on the unconscious wizard. It was impossible for him to understand Potter's pain. He hadn't taken a life until he was well into his twenties, and it had been an accident. He'd gone back to his childhood home, intent on rescuing the mother he still adored from his abusive father. Lucius had gone with him, claiming it was for support, but Severus knew it was because the older wizard had taken a liking to him and was prepared to defend him if his father became belligerent. Voldemort had supposedly died a few years previous, but Severus still thought of Lucius as his friend.

When they'd arrived at his home, it was to find his mother gone. Dead, his father had slurred drunkenly. An accident on the stairs, her neck had broken. She was dead before the ambulance had arrived. Severus had flown into a rage, the last true one he'd felt until Potter had accused him of causing Lily's death. His wand forgotten in its holster on his arm, he'd attacked his father. He'd only managed to punch the slovenly drunk once before Lucius grabbed him, but it had been enough. Tobias Snape had staggered and fallen through the sliding glass door onto the back porch. A jagged piece of glass protruded from his throat as he struggled to cry out. Blood had gushed from the wound and bubbled from the bastard's mouth, but Severus could only stand there and watch as he died. There had been no remorse, no guilt, just a feeling of freedom and relief. The rest had come later, after he and Lucius had magically altered the scene to make it appear as if they'd stumbled upon it by chance. They'd even used a potion to make the body decay slightly, as if it had been lying there for a few days.

The reality of what he'd done hadn't hit him until the Muggle law enforcement had begun questioning him on the front stoop. He'd wept, truly cried, for the first time since he was a child. Both his parents were dead. Aside from Albus and Lucius, he had no one in the world. The other professors at the school hadn't yet come to trust him. When he'd eventually returned to the school, he couldn't bring himself to tell Albus what he'd done, and had given the old wizard the same story he'd given the police. He had long suspected that Albus knew the truth, though, as he always seemed to.

All of this, Severus whispered to the comatose Wizarding Savior, who still lay hovering above the hospital bed, unsure whether Potter could hear him. No, he couldn't understand what it was like to die for a cause, or kill for one, but he knew what it felt like to carry the burden of someone else's death. He knew what it meant to fear that you'd become the very thing you'd brought an end to.

"I'm sorry…Harry," Severus whispered to the deathly silent hospital room.

He continued to stand in the shadows of his cold corner, keeping vigil over the prone young wizard, until the sun brightened the sky outside of the lone window.


	11. Chapter 11

Severus opened his eyes to absolute dark. His first thought was that this was Potter's way of punishing him, because of their angry parting words the last time. Potter couldn't block him completely, not with the connection between their cores, so the alternative was to deprive him of a dreamscape. He waited to see if Potter would push him out, or speak from the darkness.

After a moment, he heard the soft grunts and moans of someone in pain. Was this another nightmare? He moved towards the sound and his eyes adjusted to a soft light that mimicked the moon, a light that grew slightly brighter the closer he got to the source of the noise. He came to a sudden stop as a bed swam into view. Dark sheets were twisted around two forms moving together atop the mattress.

Severus felt a blush heat up his cheeks, and a trickle of sweat slid over the skin of his neck. Potter, who he could only see from the waist up, was obviously naked. The sounds he'd heard were groans of passion as Potter rocked on top of his companion wantonly. The seventeen year old's shadow was cast over his bed partner, so Severus couldn't see. The Potions Master had no idea of what to do. Should he interrupt, question Potter on who he was fantasizing about? Or should he wait to see if he could discover the answer himself without embarrassing the Gryffindor?

The question was answered for him as a pale hand appeared above the sheets and out of the shadows. It slithered up Potter's toned, sweaty chest, nails scratching softly at the skin. The Gryffindor reached up and grabbed the wrist, drawing it to his mouth. Full lips and a moist tongue danced over the pale wrist…and the Dark Mark tattoo that marred the otherwise unblemished skin. Severus backed away in disbelief of what he was seeing. It couldn't be…but Draco had already proven a false lead, so it _had_ to be-

The Potions Master withdrew from the dream and sat up on his bed. He ignored his body's natural reaction to what he'd witnessed and buried his face in his hands. It wasn't possible that Potter had been dreaming of-of _him_. He was his professor, a former Death Eater, what could Potter possibly have seen in him to…fall in love with. The thought terrified him.

Severus looked up and around at his bedroom in the still spring sunlight pouring in through his enchanted window. He was grounding himself in reality. Yes, he was still the Potions Master; Head of Slytherin and all around Greasy Git. He knew he'd become something different in Potter's dreams, someone kinder, someone gentler, but…the potion had been the _cause_ , and not the effect. So, the question became:

"How long has he felt this way?" Severus murmured to the empty room. If he was the cure, the person the potion had latched onto, then Potter had felt this way _before_ they'd each changed in one another's eyes.

The Potions Master sat on the edge of his bed with a sigh, his feet planted firmly on the cold dungeon floor. As he began to dress (he had a duty to Potter, and to himself, to give this insight its due research, i.e. testing whether he was the cure) another thought occurred to him. If he was the cure, then-

"How long has he _known_?" Severus asked, his voice louder. They'd traversed every possible avenue of thought and attraction, so when had Potter discovered that _Severus_ was the answer.

Severus left his rooms and began to make his way towards the Hospital Wing, still lost in thought. It was possible that Potter _hadn't_ known about his attraction until recently, perhaps even come upon it since Severus' last visit. However, something kept niggling at the back of the former Death Eater's mind, something Potter had said. What was it?

As the Potions Master drew nearer to the Infirmary, he managed to grab hold of the suspicion and draw it forward. It was the whisper of a memory.

" _Who gets under your skin?"_

" _Besides you?"_

Severus had thought the lad was being flippant, but there was something else.

" _You're my Half-Blood Prince."_

Of _course_! He'd said 'my', not 'the'. Potter hadn't been in love with _him_ when he'd been poisoned, the potion had latched onto his affection for the Half-Blood Prince. The potion knew from Potter's mind that the Half-Blood Prince had to exist, even if he didn't know who it was. And Potter's core would have automatically sensed Severus' magical signature, faded though it must be, on the Potions text. But, if Potter had known since then, which had been months ago, then why hadn't he said anything? Why hide the cure?

Perhaps as a defense against being hurt if Severus didn't feel the same? He'd been anxious when they'd discussed the possibility of reciprocation of his feelings. Potter had said himself that the odds were astronomical. Perhaps he was ashamed of his feelings? Severus didn't know what had made the lad hesitate to cure his own curse, but as he stepped into the private hospital room, he was suddenly sure of one thing: Potter hadn't heard his admission a few nights ago, hadn't heard Severus spill his darkest secret. If he had, he would never have been having such lustful dreams about him.

But…did Severus feel the same? He supposed it didn't matter. His kiss would wake the younger wizard no matter how he felt. And, if he really thought about it, it wouldn't matter how he felt anyway. Yes, he had strong feelings for the boy, he could admit it, in the safety of his own mind. But he couldn't be with him, couldn't give Potter that part of himself. If he did, he'd have to tell him about his father, _again_ , and once the Wizarding Savior knew the truth he'd turn from Severus as quickly as Lily had those many years ago when he'd become a junior Death Eater.

"Severus?"

The Potions Master turned from where he was standing at Potter's bedside. He saw the Headmaster standing in the doorway.

"I think it's time you woke him, m'boy."

"You knew?!" Severus hissed.

"I've had my suspicions for some time," Albus answered softly, his blue eyes twinkling madly. "But I knew you both had to come to it in your own time. Wake him, Severus, do not make him wait for his Prince."

Severus turned back to the hovering Seventh Year. "This must remain a secret."

"He'll know."

"No one else has to."

"As you wish, Severus."

The Potions Master waited until he heard his mentor's steps retreating from the door. He slid a hand beneath the soft, black hair and lifted the still head towards him. Potter would hate him, he'd assume he'd been rejected. But it was better this way. Severus could keep his secrets, and Harry would remain unburdened with them. He was young, he didn't need any more on his shoulders than he already had, which was still more than he deserved. Severus leaned over the prone form, and sucked in a deep, stabilizing breath. Maybe someday he could even learn to forgive himself for his decision.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry walked into Gryffindor Common Room. He still felt a little groggy, and his head felt like it was about to split, but the black veins had receded and the pain potion Madam Pomfrey had given him was starting to work. He jumped as several very loud voices shouted his name at once, in surprise, confusion, and relief. He turned towards the fire to see his dorm mates, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, staring at him in disbelief.

"When did you wake?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged, rubbing at his eyes. "I dunno, about an hour or two ago, I think. What're you doing? I thought everyone was at Dinner."

"We were about to head down ourselves, Harry," Ron said, grinning. "Are you coming?"

Harry gave a longing glance to the stairs to his dorm room, but nodded. "Sure. I should probably eat something anyway."

Ginny and Hermione came over to give him a hug. "You're sure? You could stay here and get some rest if you want." The red-headed girl mumbled into his chest.

He staggered slightly under their combined weight. "No, thanks, I-"

"Rest? He's been resting for _months_ ," Seamus argued. Dean smacked him upside the head as Hermione rounded on him.

"He just woke up after being _poisoned_ , Seamus, and he already said everything's 'wobbly'. If he needs _real_ sleep, then you shouldn't harp on him," The girl said tartly.

Harry grinned and wrapped an arm around the girl he thought of as a sister. He placed a tender kiss to her temple. "You're beautiful, Hermione, really. But, I think I'm fine. My head's already feeling better, and I might as well get it out of the way now."

As one, the boys still by the fire made their way over to them, and Harry turned, slightly leaning on the witch his arm was around. The group started to make their way to the hole in the wall. As Neville pushed open the portrait, Harry stopped and turned.

"What's the matter, Gin?" He asked the girl, who hadn't moved from where she'd hugged him.

Brown eyes darted to Hermione, and back to Harry. "Who-who woke you, Harry? We've all been so worried, and _all_ of us have tried at some point in the last several months, so…who did you fall in love with?"

Harry frowned as the echo of a thought whispered in his mind. _"This has to be a secret."_

He looked at his ex-girlfriend, then quickly away. "It was…" He sighed. "It was the Half-Blood Prince." All of his friends gasped disbelievingly.

"Harry, you can't be-"

"Yes, I am, Neville," Harry said shortly. "Look, I know how it sounds, but, I'm dead serious, alright? I fell in love with a person I'd never even met, and when I figured out who it was I told Snape." _Sort of, in a roundabout way_ , he amended in his own head. "But they were gone before I woke up, so obviously he doesn't feel the same way. So just drop it, okay? And no, I won't tell you who it is. I just want to forget about them."

"You said 'he', Harry," Ginny said softly, walking over to him. "Is that why-?

Harry sighed again. "Yes, Gin, that's why we didn't work out," He murmured. "You-you guys can't tell anyone, okay? As far as everyone else is concerned, I don't know who woke me, and still have no idea who the potion claimed as my cure."

They all nodded firmly when he looked at them, even Ginny.

"Swear, Harry, no one else has to know."

The Wizarding Savior flinched at his ex-girlfriend's choice of words. As a group, each of his friends stood defensively around Harry as they made their way down to the Great Hall. He was going to have to lie to a lot of people for the next month until the school year ended, but at least his friends would know. And maybe someday he'd work up the courage to tell them the whole truth.

 _Break_

For the next month Harry Potter attended his classes like a normal Seventh Year. He didn't have to do any of the work outside of the classes, but for the sake of image, to show the Wizarding World that he was still a student, he was made to attend. When it came time for finals, he was given a review of the Sixth Year final and took that in place of his NEWTs.

The day after he woke, the _Daily Prophet_ released the headline: _**Sleeping Beauty Awakes**_ **,** _ **but who is his Princess?**_ A week later, they released a second article: _**Harry Potter, Ashamed of True Love's Kiss?**_ Any time someone asked Harry who his savior had been, he told them he didn't know. His friends, true to their word, gave the same answer.

Meanwhile, Severus Snape returned to life as usual. Slughorn chose to finish out the year, leaving him with more time than he knew what to do with without Potter's dreamscapes to visit. He spent this spare time hidden away in his quarters, trying desperately to forget the Boy Who Lived. When pressed by his fellow teachers about who had woken Potter from his magical slumber, he would only grunt and tell them it was the boy's secret to keep.

No one could guess from the way the two passed in the corridors what had transpired between them. To anyone who cared to look, they were back to old habits (notoriously hard to kill). If their eyes should meet, green would glare and black would sneer in turn. If they each looked away too quickly, or dismissed themselves from a meal with their food hardly touched, no one noticed. This was they had always been, and as far as either was concerned, this was how they should remain.


	13. Chapter 13

Severus groaned as he walked into his office a week after the students had gone. Albus had begun nagging him about getting his final grading done. Severus usually left the grading for the week it was due, content to enjoy uninterrupted time with his potions, but the Headmaster had insisted he get it done sooner and take a real holiday.

So the Potions Master sat at his desk, rubbing at his face tiredly. He'd been up half the night working on further improvements to the Wolfsbane. He didn't understand why Albus was more insistent this year that he take a holiday. He had never really done so in the past, always retiring to his childhood home for the Summer. Perhaps the old man was feeling guilty about the way Severus had ended things with Harry before they'd even begun.

Severus reached for the First Year scrolls, but paused. There was a note in the center of his desk that he didn't remember being there before. Always suspicious, he was a spy after all, he immediately cast a multitude of spells on the folded parchment. There was no Dark residue on the note, no hexes or harmful charms. The only spell was one that would allow no one but the recipient to read the letter's contents.

Carefully, Severus reached for the letter and began to unfold it. Words began to appear as he held the note in his hands. He immediately recognized the messy handwriting, and his blood froze as he wondered what this could be. Was it blackmail? Vitriol over his apparent rejection? A...he cringed at the thought…love letter?

" _You'll have to read it to find out,"_ Albus' voice spoke up in Severus mind. His conscience had long since taken on the voice of the wily old coot, and he mentally waved the voice away. Of course, he had to read it, that didn't stop his trepidation about doing so.

 _Snape,_

 _I wasn't really sure what to put here. There's a lot I want to say, and there's a lot I_ should _say, but I don't really think any of it matters. You made your choice, and we both have to live with that decision, for better or worse. I just wanted to thank you. You made what could have been a constant nightmare bearable, and I can't ever repay you for that. You understood and accepted the secret part of me that not even my friends know about, and that, too, I can never repay you for…but I can try._

 _You shared your pain with me. I don't even know if you realize I could hear you, but I did. I want you to know something: Your secret is safe with me. You're right that the Headmaster probably knows, I don't think there's any secret the man_ doesn't _know, but, in your own words 'No one else has to.'_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Harry Potter, the Boy Who Died_

 _P.S. For what it's worth, I don't think what happened was your fault. It was a freak accident, and no one can blame you for that._

The letter drifted towards the floor, it's face blank once again, as the door to the office slammed shut with a crack that echoed in the still and empty room.


	14. Chapter 14

_Rap rap rap_

The door to the Burrow opened after the third rapid knock. Molly Weasley smiled kindly at the very out-of-breath Potions Master.

"Why, Severus, I didn't know you were coming for a visit. It's not my boys again, is it?" She turned and shouted into the house. "Ron! Harry! Come down this instant!" She turned back to him, her sweet smile back in place. "What have they done now? Left some prank in your office or classroom as a parting gift? Don't you worry, we'll have this sorted."

She stepped aside and gestured him in. He stepped inside the domicile, his heart thundering in his chest. He hadn't expected this, though he supposed he should have. The entire long trek across Hogwarts grounds he had pictured it in his head. Potter would be out in the front garden, or he would be the one to answer the door. But this was not the whirlwind final confrontation in a book, it was real life, and if he wanted something to happen he couldn't merely wish it so. He'd come this far, he may as well swallow his pride and do what he'd come for.

Severus stepped into the living room with his host. He was offered a seat, or tea, and took neither as he stared nervously up at the ceiling. Of course, he was no good at expressing emotions he was unfamiliar with, so it was no surprise when Molly took him to be displeased about something. She went to the foot of the stairs.

"Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, you come down this instant!" She shouted shrilly up the landing.

There was the thunderous sound of footsteps several floors above.

"Coming, Mum!"

"Coming, Mrs. Weasley!"

Severus wanted to explain that he needed Potter for a private matter, that the two graduated students were not in trouble, and that he had no business with the youngest Weasley male, but he found he could say none of this. His tongue seemed trapped to the roof of his mouth, his heart still thundering, but now in his throat. So he only stood there as the sound of footsteps drew nearer, his hands clasped behind his back to hide his sweating palms. Why the hell was it so hot in here?"

Finally, the familiar duo appeared, with Ginevra and Granger behind them. Potter and Weasley stalled on the last stair as they looked upon the unfamiliar sight of their Potions Master, Granger and the other Weasley seeming just as surprised and confused on the step behind them. Potter stepped off the stair and approached him with a single arched eyebrow. He paused a few steps away.

"What're you-"

"We didn't do anything, Mum, I swear," Ronald announced to the room.

Severus was immediately suspicious of the boy's quick response to his presence and he leveled a glare at the red-head. Perhaps he should check his classroom upon his return to the school. If the boy was so quick to deny involvement, which may well be a programmed response, he may also be denying it for a reason. He looked back at his quarry in time to see Potter roll his eyes in exasperation.

Molly spoke up. "Harry, Ron, if either of you have done anything to Professor Snape, I shall-"

"No," Severus interrupted, making his voice work at last. He found he couldn't look away from the questioning green gaze. "I-Mister Potter, I wondered if I could speak with you…in private."

Potter glared at him suspiciously, but nodded and turned away. "Mrs. Weasley, do you mind if we use the back garden?"

The motherly witch looked between them curiously. "Of course, Harry, dear. Be sure to watch for gnomes."

"Yes, ma'am," The young wizard said innocently. He glanced back at Severus and began to lead the way from the living room into the kitchen.

As soon as the back door shut, the trio left on the stairs made a mad dash to the kitchen window. Ginny and Ron looked at Hermione, who was staring out the window knowingly.

"Well, go on," Ron prodded. "Don't keep us in the dark, 'Mione."

The intelligent witch smirked at her friends. "I'm not sure, but…I think we just met the Half-Blood Prince."

The two youngest Weasley's exchanged a look of disbelief before staring out the window as well.

Severus cleared his throat, and opened his mouth to speak as they walked through the garden towards the paddock that squared off the Weasley orchard. Once again, he found no words would come out. Potter spoke instead, without looking at him.

"I found a tutor…several, in fact," He said calmly. "You were right, there were any number willing to teach me. Kingsley said he'd tutor me on History of Magic and Herbology, of all things, on the weekends, and Tonks has agreed to teach me Transfiguration, which she says is one of her best subjects. Remus is going to teach me Charms and Defense. It'll be another year, at least, until I can take my NEWTs, but at least it's a start."

"What about Potions? From what I heard, you did quite well in that class last year," Severus remarked. He mentally kicked himself as Potter cringed.

"I-I had help," He muttered. After a moment, he looked up with a false smile. "Someone had written all over the text I borrowed. Most of it turned out to be very useful."

"Most?" Severus queried teasingly.

Potter shrugged. "Well, there was the occasional rant about the incompetence of the author, and some spells better left to the imagination, but...other than that, it was like having my own private tutor."

"I'm sure it helped that you didn't have me hanging over your shoulder, waiting for you to make a mistake," Severus said carefully.

"Heh," Potter chuckled nervously. "It certainly didn't hurt."

They fell back into silence as they walked through the gate into the orchard. Severus, suddenly faced with the very situation he'd come here for, found he had no idea what to say. How did you broach such a subject? How could he put into words the reason behind his rejection?

"What do you want, Snape?" Potter asked. It wasn't demanding, he wasn't asking _why_ Severus had come. Instead, he was asking what Severus had come here for.

There weren't words to describe what he wanted. He wasn't sentimental, and 'I love you' seemed to fall short of what he wanted to say, anyway. Potter had been right. Love was easy, love could be given and taken back almost at will. This was something wholly more complicated. It was stronger, undying, and could only be expressed with a gesture. Only by putting himself in the line of fire could he say what couldn't be said.

Severus gripped the smaller hand and stopped walking. Potter stopped as well as stared up at him. A shaking hand cupped a tan cheek as they leaned towards one another. A second shaking hand, smaller, covered Severus' own. Potter stopped a hairs breadth away.

"My friend's will be watching out the window," He murmured uncertainly, his breath hitching.

Severus ran his trembling thumb over a prominent cheekbone. He couldn't help a debonair smirk, despite his nervousness. "We have enough secrets, Harry. No more."

The distance between them closed in the space of an eternal heartbeat. The world around them stilled as their breath mingled and their lips met. Magic sparked in yearning between them. In the next moment, the wind blew and the summer birds sang sweetly. Time passed, the hands of the clock ticked by. The trees shuddered and the flowers bloomed, gnomes giggled and frogs croaked. But nothing touched the two wizards locked together in a field on a hill surrounded by a forest, as their secret hearts embraced.

When they pulled hesitantly apart, Severus thought no words could convey how he felt, but Potter spoke in a soft voice that carried on the whispering wind.

"You're right, Severus. It _is_ a kind of love."

The Potions Master smiled. "Didn't you know, Harry? True love conquers all."


End file.
